My story starts in the slum.
Growing up, my mom always motivated me, telling me I should go to school, work hard, so that I could be the one to pull her out of this life of poverty. But the reason I went to school wasn’t because I wanted to learn. I went so that at least I could get something for my stomach.
Whenever we had no food, my mom would put some water in a cooking pan. She would light the kerosene, and when the water boiled, the neighbors would think we were eating.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused on
A Nairobi, Kenya, gang-member-turned-tour-guide wants others to know that with the right support, any life can change for the better.
During the weekend, I normally went to play soccer. One day I never showed up to the pitch. I was hungry. This concerned my friends; I was a player they depended on. They came asking why I didn’t go.
They told me that if I followed them, they would show me places where I would get food and money. I was only 9. I couldn’t resist. I knew my mom wouldn’t like it, but I followed them. They showed me the streets.
The first night I spent with security guards. I had to lie, saying I came with my mama to the city, but she left me. They took good care of me. They even gave me a blanket to cover myself.
After that I was on my own. I would wake up as early as 4 or 5 a.m. and go begging. I wasn’t strong enough to fight. I wanted to join the gangs, but I was of zero benefit to them. They took my money and food.
I found six other lonely boys. I mobilized them into a gang. With a gang, you’re more protected. We could only survive by crime. We would go pickpocketing, snatching, and mugging. Crime became my life. I went buying drugs; I went partying in the street.
Erika Page/The Christian Science Monitor
They gave me the name Typhoon because I was a calamity.
The police wanted to get rid of us. Our police are brutal. They shoot to kill.
When I was 16, I was arrested. We were heading uptown where we could find people with money. We never made it because we were surrounded by undercover police. We were trapped. Those who tried to run, they shot them dead. I was charged with armed violence.
In the streets, I had been a big fish. When I got to prison, I was a small fish. There you only have two options. It changes your life, or you grow worse. I thought of my mom. It had been seven years since we had been in contact. I wasn’t ready to become worse. I had already lost a lot of friends.
I made up my mind. I decided to change.
I met some kind people. I had a mentor who helped me through guidance and counseling classes. I had a teacher who volunteered to teach me how to read and write, hoping that when I came out from prison, I could at least pursue something.
They could see I was behaving. After three years, I was let out. I didn’t know where to start, but I knew I had to go back home.
Back in the slum, I met three guys, Donga, Kissmart, and Cheddar Cheese. After sharing with them what I had been through, one said he had also been in prison. Another said he had lost friends on the streets.
They were doing community cleanups, a way of cleaning up their names in the neighborhood. We got the idea to start a tourist company. No one believed we could offer tours in Nairobi. [Normally] tourists want to get out of Nairobi. We start in uptown, which is considered to be safe. Then I take them to where I would never advise you to walk by yourself.
Erika Page/The Christian Science Monitor
We take them through our former home, the streets. I explain to them this is the river which used to be a shower for me. All the trash in the city ends up in this river. When I share my story, it’s not difficult. It’s my life. It helps me cure my trauma.
We call ourselves Nai Nami. “Nai” stands for Nairobi, and nami means “with me” in Swahili. We have a phrase: Our streets, our story.
We meet people from all over the world. At first it wasn’t easy for me to speak English. I was a stammerer. I was fearful, even to pick up the clients. The more I did the tours, the more I adapted. Today we are nine guys. We are able to earn salaries.
At home in the slum, I feel I should be the person I never had in life. I think of myself when I was 9 years old. If I had a mentor, maybe it would have been different.
So I started mentoring kids. I provide breakfast and lunch, and organize classes. When I share my own experience, I am proof that it’s possible to live a new life. It is the only way I have to give back.
I wish I could meet the mentor who put me on the right path. I don’t know if he’s still in the same prison. What he made me, that’s what I’m trying to be in the world.
